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    The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn
    The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn
    The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn
    Ebook65 pages54 minutes

    The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn

    By AuthorsDread LLC

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Trapped by legacy, fate, and forbidden love, Eliza must unlock the darkest secrets of the Rosaline Inn before it claims her family forever.

    Eliza Thornwood knows she is different. Haunted by uncanny visions and inexplicable gifts since childhood, she craves answers about the strange forces stirring within her soul. But in her remote family manor, darkness festers, and Eliza's own kin will stop at nothing to muzzle her awakening power.

    When the enigmatic Viscount Ashcroft arrives, he opens Eliza's eyes to the evil that has corrupted her lineage for generations. Together they form a passionate bond that transcends all bounds as they unravel a terrifying supernatural mystery at the sprawling Rosaline Inn. The more Eliza uncovers of her family's occult secrets, the more sinister the peril that surrounds her becomes.
    To survive this gothic nightmare, Eliza must not only reclaim her own destiny – she must bring to light secrets that should remain forever buried.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorsDread LLC
    Release dateJan 6, 2024
    ISBN9798224094936
    The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn

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      Book preview

      The Second Daughter of the Rosaline Inn - AuthorsDread LLC

      Chapter 1 - Restless Spirits

      A bitter wind howled through the forest, setting the naked branches rattling as Eliza Thornwood hurried along the overgrown path, hoisting her cloak higher to shield against the chill. In the distance, the spires of the Rosaline Inn rose up out of the mist, the windows glowing warmly in welcome.

      With a shiver of relief, Eliza slipped through the creaking wrought iron gates and crossed the courtyard to the grand Gothic façade, entering through oaken doors worn smooth by generations of guests. Inside, she soaked in the familiar atmosphere – flickering sconces conjuring dancing shadows on wood-panelled walls, intricate Turkish rugs lining the floors, the sweet scent of beeswax and dried lavender.

      Home. For better or worse.

      Eliza!

      She turned to see Mrs. Danvers, the inn’s matronly housekeeper, frowning at her from the end of the hall. Your father has been asking for you, dear. Best hurry along to the study.

      Suppressing a sigh, Eliza changed course for the west wing, stockinged feet whispering over polished floors. She had no desire to endure another lecture from Father about proper behaviour and her duties as a young lady of the gentry. Not when the winds of autumn stirred her restless spirit, called to something deeper within.

      The study door loomed before her. Eliza rapped twice and a gravelly voice bid enter.

      Lord Alfred Thornwood sat ensconced behind a desk stacked high with leather-bound ledgers and parchments. He quirked one bushy eyebrow at her arrival, mouth pinching beneath his trim grey beard.

      You wanted to see me, Father? Eliza prompted when he continued scribbling silently in his account book.

      Yes. He closed the ledger with a thump and removed his spectacles, fixing her with a stern gaze. The Halford’s maid discovered you in the library again this morning. Improperly dressed and poring over books no respectable young lady should have interest in. Mysticism and the occult. It’s unacceptable, Eliza.

      Eliza stifled a sharp retort, folding her arms. She had been studying a rare compendium of spiritualism - tales of ghosts, psychic mediums, and messages from beyond the veil. Subjects that both thrilled and unsettled her in ways she did not fully understand.

      Perhaps if I had more to occupy myself with beyond needlepoint and parlour gossip, she replied evenly. Vivian gets to assist with the ledgers and inventories. Why not I?

      Lord Thornwood’s stare hardened. Your sister is firstborn. She will inherit the inn. Not you. I’ll hear no more on this.

      Father...

      Enough. He rose, hands clasped behind his back. The Halford’s extended their stay. I expect you to join them this evening for cards and conversation. And I mean civilized conversation. No talk of otherworldly nonsense. Is that clear?

      Eliza’s nails bit into her palms, but she bowed her head. Yes, Father.

      Good. He gestured curtly to the door. You are dismissed.

      Fuming, Eliza curtsied swiftly and quit the study, blinking back frustrated tears. It was always the same. Ever since Mother died, Father only saw her as something to be controlled, moulded to his will.

      Not the son and heir he always wanted.

      Eliza retreated through deserted servants’ passageways, descending creaking stairs until she reached her bedchamber in the east wing. Only then did she allow the tears to fall, muffled sobs wracking her slender frame.

      She would never be free here. Never become anything more than an ornament, passed from father to husband for strategic alliances. The restless spirit within longed to break those shackles, to find the missing piece of herself. But it seemed no choice lay before her but submission.

      A soft knock interrupted her despair. Lady Eliza? came a gentle voice. May I enter?

      Eliza straightened, wiping her eyes swiftly. Come in, Wynter.

      The door opened and her lady’s maid glided in, brow creasing in concern at Eliza’s tear-stained cheeks. Wynter had been her one confidant for years, more a friend than a servant. Setting down an armful of dresses, she drew Eliza into a comforting embrace.

      There now, let it out, she soothed, lightly stroking Eliza’s hair as she cried again. I know it isn’t fair. But you must stay strong, keep holding to what your heart knows is right.

      Eliza nodded against Wynter's shoulder, inhaling the scent of fresh herbs that always seemed to cling to her maid’s sensible brown dress and white apron. At length, she drew back, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

      Father wants me to entertain the Halfords again tonight, she said ruefully. I’m to behave and speak only of respectable subjects.

      Wynter tsked

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